


Underground

by sorcererinslytherin



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Claustrophobia, Fake AH Crew, Freewood - Freeform, M/M, Multi, Myan - Freeform, OT6, almost major character death, small spaces
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-28
Updated: 2020-01-28
Packaged: 2021-02-27 07:09:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,232
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22453204
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sorcererinslytherin/pseuds/sorcererinslytherin
Summary: When the clock is ticking and your air is running out, you tend to start wondering if this is the end. If Gavin's family has anything to say about it, it's not. They've got 30 minutes... can they make it in time? (TW: Claustrophobia.)General OT6. Emphasis on Freewood and Geovin. Background Myan. Written for my lovely friend ShadeofAzmeinya. Happy birthday!
Relationships: Gavin Free/Geoff Ramsey, Gavin Free/Ryan Haywood, Jeremy Dooley/Gavin Free/Ryan Haywood/Michael Jones/Jack Pattillo/Geoff Ramsey, Ryan Haywood/Michael Jones
Comments: 12
Kudos: 93





	Underground

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ShadeOfAzmeinya](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShadeOfAzmeinya/gifts).



> If you don't like stories about small spaces, please don't read this. 
> 
> Written for my good friend Shade, who just said for their birthday that they wanted that good good angst and that good good comfort. Hopefully there's enough of both in here... rather a bit more angst, but I can give the follow up good, good comfort in a sequel if ya'll want one! :) 
> 
> INSPIRED BY THE TV SHOW LEVERAGE EPISODE: "THE GRAVE DANGER JOB".

  
The last thing Gavin remembered was hands grabbing him, pulling him backwards. He had clawed at the hands, ripping at them, trying to get them off of him, but nothing worked. He had yelled, he thought - screamed out and hoped that the com would pick up his cry.

But something was jammed into his mouth, cutting off the words before they could really form, choking him and blinding him in his terror to get away. The cloth was covered in something thick and cloying in its heaviness.

He tries not to breathe, tries not to open his mouth, but there’s only so much he can do to stop himself from screaming out. When something jams into his side and he’s hauled off his chair in the Mobile Command Center, dragged from his console and across the metal floor of the van, he starts to get dizzy.    
  
When something sharp pinches his skin, he gasps out a muffled whimper, and that’s all that was needed for the gas to flood up into his nose, his sinuses, and to carry the drug into his brain.

Dizzy, sluggish, and slow - ten seconds after he takes a stifled, gasping breath, the world goes black. 

Never in that time did he get a good look at his attackers.

***

Ryan knows something is wrong the moment he hears muffled sounds filter through his com, but the immediate situation around him stops him from grunting to check in on Gavin. The world is filtered down to the smallest level as the heist blooms around them - the heist they had planned for months, had spent countless untold hours preparing for ... he couldn’t,  _ wouldn’t _ , think of anything else.

He gestures menacingly towards the three men he was holding hostage, growling threats at them while looking over his shoulder at the others. Even if he had the ability to check on Gavin, watching the hostages wasn’t really a job he could turn away from.

Geoff’s growl behind the mask indicates they need to hurry. No shit. He’s tense, Ryan can tell from the shortness of his breath through the com and the way he paces back and forth, even if he can’t see Geoff’s face through the masks they wear. When a muffled sound comes through the coms that’s unmistakably Gavin, Geoff turns, grunting. “Goldie?” he snaps. “What’s the matter?”   
  
No answer, but that conversation is drowned out by Michael and Jeremy chattering at one another, oblivious of the problem and moving their drills into the door. Then all he can hear - all anyone can hear - is the whirring grind of the drills as they break the lock on the vault.   
  
Ryan’s attention is pulled away from Gavin as well as one hostage tries to take advantage of the confusion and lunge towards the counter and the panic button. One bullet is all it takes to end his life, the body skittering backwards. The other two hostages scream, scooching backwards and sobbing, suitably cowed.

  
“There’s some movement by Gavin’s command center,” Jack filters in from her position in the second story window of the building across the street, eye at the sniper to take out the guards in front and playing reconnaissance in the meantime. “Some cars... could be normal, but...”   
  
“Keep an eye on it,” Geoff orders, focusing instead on the main doors, but before they could follow that train of thought, Jack’s screaming. “Cops! Police are coming, a whole force of them! You’ve got about three minutes, boys - work fast!”   
  
All thoughts of Gavin and his safety leave their heads as they sprint into action. As soon as Jeremy drops his drill and yelps, “We’re In!,” they’re all piling into the vault, shoving as much money as they can carry into their duffel bags. As Ryan reminds himself, this was a thousand-and-one chance. They weren’t going to get another opportunity to rob this bank, not again, not anytime soon. They had spent nearly a full fuckin’ year planning this heist, sourcing info, getting supplies...

“Get out of there!” Jack’s screaming in their ears less than a minute later. They must have at least two million in their bags, all of them fetching and carrying. Above, Geoff unloads a round into the ceiling and is yelling something at the hostages. It’s noise, frantic activity - what they’re known for, what they thrive on, but the feeling is somehow muted. They act like robots, gathering, running, but the spark is gone.

All Ryan can think about - all he thinks they can all think about - is Gavin’s squeak. And how he’s been silent ever since. Why was he silent? What happened?? But they can’t worry about it, just have to get out....

Gavin will just have to hold on.

***

They race out of the bank, towards where Jack was screaming over in their best car. The sound of sirens was near deafening now. Gavin was supposed to abandon the Mobile Command Center if the cops got called, the plan was that he was supposed to meet them here if possible to scatter in faster cars than that shit-mobile Command Center. 

“Goldie!” Geoff snaps into the com. “Goldie! Reply, where the fuck are you?!”   
  
Nothing. The feeling of fear grows in Ryan’s bones, but he can’t interrupt Geoff, not right now - the coms needed to stay clear in case Gavin could reply to them. Instead, Jack just shoves them into the back of her car. “Come on! We can go to him, but we can’t fucking stay here - they’re swarming!”   
  
Like bees in a kicked hive, the police surround the area, red and blue lights flashing a technicolor dance across the wet pavement. Ryan doesn’t hesitate, jumping into the back and shoving the Lads in with him. Geoff hesitates a few more critical seconds before swinging into the car too.

Jack’s driving is top-notch and they manage to slip out a hole in the police’s defenses, going from zero to one-hundred as they race through the darkened streets of the city. For now, it seems the Mobile Command Center is unnoticed by the cops, but it certainly wouldn’t stay that way. Not any time soon, not with the LSPD so eager to make an arrest and with them chasing their vehicle.   
  
No one’s hurt - thank god, the heist had gone off otherwise without a hitch - and so Geoff immediately starts yelling for Gavin to reply again. Nothing. Whatever happened to him, his com is off or disabled or otherwise he’s unable to reply. 

“What if he’s hurt?” Michael snarls, breaking through the otherwise silence. The coms were top of the line, they’d filter out unnecessary noise. If Gavin’s attackers were talking in the background, moving the body... no one would hear.   
  
Ryan feels like he’s going to be sick. The piles of cash on the ground is a poor price to pay for Gavin. He would throw them all out the window just to know that Gavin was okay.

“I saw them move something out of the back,” Jack says from the drivers’ seat. Her voice is grim. “My attention was yanked away when the cops started coming, but there was some sort of action in the back of the van.”   
  
_ “Fuck,”  _ Geoff hisses. No one mentions that it was because of him they didn’t leave at the first sign of danger. Gavin would have wanted them to finish the heist, Ryan just had to keep reminding himself of that. But it rang hollow and the sour taste in his mouth was a silent contradiction.

It’s not long before they arrive, Jack skidding to a halt near the Command Center. Right now they’re momentarily out of the view of the cops, but it likely wouldn’t stay that way for long. Michael hardly waits for the car to stop before he’s jumping out and racing towards the Command Center. Geoff’s the second one out, his guilt making himself run faster than he ever had before. Jeremy follows and Jack’s almost got the car moving again as Ryan leaps out.

“I’ll watch,” Jack says quickly as soon as the door is closed, speeding out to patrol around them, keeping an eye out for those telltale flashing lights.

***

Gavin awakens in the dark. It’s impossible to tell how long he’s been asleep. Honestly, he’s not sure if he’s even awake at first. It’s cold and he can’t... breathe right. And it’s fucking pitch ass black, darker than anything he’s ever felt. Not so much dark as a void - as if the dark is looking at him back, evaluating him. Taking him in.   
  
Terrified, he gropes out to feel. His hands... he can only somewhat move his arms. Not bound, but just small - wherever he is, it’s tight. His claustrophobia starts kicking in and he breathes quicker. He’s not normally scared of small spaces, but it’s so  _ close, _ so hard to breathe...

Something’s on his chest. Feeling around, he grabs it. It’s a very old flip phone, a relic at this point. He flips it open as best he can and takes a bit of a deeper breath of relief as its screen illuminates, lighting up the area around him in a faint blue.

... and then very nearly drops it as terror consumes him and he slams the phone shut, breathing roughly in the very small space above his head, forcing himself to try to calm down. He knows what the fuck this is. Where the fuck he is.

It’s a coffin.

He’s in a fucking  _ coffin _ , and if the weight and general feeling around him is anything to go by when he tries to shove his hands up agains the lid, he’s underground.

_ Six feet under and still alive. _

***

It’s obvious the Mobile Command Center has been raided from the first moment they’re over there. The doors in the back are wide open, forced entry through the locks. No one was watching the back-up cam or tending to the security of the Command Center during the heist - it was just a good base for Gavin to be close in case they needed him but he could still hack.

It was so dumb, so idiotically dumb. Ryan jumps as Geoff shouts a swear and slams his fist into the side of the metal van, furious. It’s Michael who jumps in to keep him from doing it again.

“It’s not your fault,” he says quickly. “If anything, it’s all of our fuckin’ faults, we all thought the Command Center was a good idea...”   
  
“Now’s not the time,” Ryan snaps. “Let’s figure out where he is, then we can exchange guilt and blame all fuckin’ night, okay?”   
  
Geoff growls, straightening. “Search it. We have like thirty seconds, see if you can get anything. We need to know where they took him. Any lead is a good one.”   
  
They scatter, but the sound of sirens in the background have all their teeth on edge. “You gotta go soon, boys,” she repeats, watching them as they get closer and closer, gauging until the last second before they have to fucking take off.

“Fuck,” Geoff hisses again, even more terrified, but forces himself to continue to go through the papers on the desk, the trail that led to the door. There are muddy footprints indicating more than one guy was here. This was a planned effort, not a quick isolated attempt.... They had a mole.

“Geoff!” Jeremy’s voice cuts through the thickening silence pressing down on all of them. He looks up from where he was looking at Gavin’s console, moving the mouse and waking the computer up. The note there is obvious, written on word and saved on the desktop. Simple, ominous.

_ Money on the pier in half an hour or he dies. Time is running out for him... better hurry. _

There’s no signature, not even a stereotypical initial. Just a simple demand and a time limit on Gavin’s life. If they didn’t find him in half an hour, their loved one would be dead.

Before Geoff could worry about it further, his phone rings. The caller is unknown, but in this situation he knows better than to screen his calls. He accepts the call and is just about to answer it when Jack is demanding at them to  _ move _ .

Ryan grabs Geoff’s arm, but before they leap out they hear the sound of the door to the cab of the Command Center slam shut. Michael kicks the door in from the other side and is one millisecond from putting a bullet into the red hair of the woman he loves before she slams his hand sideways.   
  
“Just me,” Jack snarls. “Hold on.”   
  
She floors the MCC and it flies from its parked position. The cops - right now - don’t know where they are and they may have a few moments more safety from this clean vehicle. But they can’t drive inconspicuously for too long in this hunking piece of metal, so they were down to mere minutes of anonymity. 

Geoff, meanwhile, falls into a seat with the others as Jack takes off. He forces his emotions into the back of his mind to make room for Ramsey, answering the phone. “Who is this?” he snaps. The line crackles for a moment before a small tinny voice comes through.   
  
“Geoff?”   
  
He almost staggers and falls off the chair, the relief sweeping over him. “Gavin! Oh god, Gavin, where are you?” He doesn’t care if he’s being listened to, if he’s telling the whole world how much he cares about his boys - all he cares about is Gavin’s voice on the other end of that stupid telephone.

“Gavin?” Jeremy asks breathlessly, stumbling over against the movement of the car to listen in, almost snatching the phone out of Geoff’s hands before the other man smacks him away. Ryan hovers, staring at them. Hoping, heart in his throat. Waiting to know who he has to kill.

He’s never wanted blood more than this moment.

“Geoff...” Gavin’s voice was very, very small. “I’m....” It crackles out a bit, but Geoff catches the last few words. “Coffin... u-underground. I’m .... I’m stuck and...”

There’s the muffled sound of a sob and Geoff’s heart goes very, very cold.

“ _ Shit _ ,” he swears, throwing a fist quickly but aborting it before it crashes into the side of the computer console or Jeremy hovering over his left shoulder. Jeremy leaps back, not hearing what was said but waiting, terrified. “Gavin, I need you to focus on me, okay? Do you know where you are?”

He flicks the phone on speaker and holds it in his lap. The others inch closer, listening with baited breath. 

Gavin’s voice crackles through the phone as Jack speeds through the streets, Michael helping her navigate towards the pier. If that’s where they needed to go - it was as best of a lead as any. 

“I’m - fuck, Geoff...” Gavin whimpers pathetically for a moment, making Ryan nearly dive for the phone in blackened fury. “I’m underground, I’m in a coffin, I’ve got like - what - half a fuckin’ hour of air, they buried me alive...!”

“Jesus,” Jeremy says, paling, but Ryan bullies his way over to Geoff and snatches the phone out of his hand. He knows this, he’s seen this shit during his time as a mercenary for hire. He forces his emotions way, way back. No time for them now, they were down to mere minutes and had to focus.

“Gavin. Gavin, can you hear me?”   
  
There’s a crackle for a moment and Ryan fears the call disconnected before Gavin’s voice comes through, small and very tight. He’s breathing quick, panicked. Terrified beyond belief. “Ryan?”

“Gavin, you have to focus on staying calm,” Ryan orders, refusing to let any of his fear show on his voice. He was strict and firm, hating having to act so distant with his terrified lover but knowing he had to. “You’re likely buried in one of the graveyards around here, right? You couldn’t have traveled for too long - do you know about what point we were in the heist when you were snatched?”   
  
“I heard him cry out when you had first taken the guys hostage,” Jeremy says quietly, playing with the handle of his gun to keep his hands busy. 

“Y-yeah,” Gavin says quietly. “I guess?”

“No ground to bury a fucking casket in the city,” Geoff grunts. “Not enough dirt. Has to be a graveyard or outside the city.”

“And he’s gotta be close enough to drive to quickly because they just grabbed him about fifteen minutes ago, tops,” Jeremy adds.    
  
“Get Michael and fill Jack in,” Geoff orders Jeremy. He hesitates for a moment, not wanting to leave Gavin on the phone, but it wasn’t a suggestion from Geoff. He disappears into the cab, leaving Ryan and Geoff alone in the back.

“What are you calling from, babe?” Ryan asks softly to Gavin as that interaction happens. Michael comes back out with Jeremy, looking furious, but Geoff points for them both to sit down at the computers. “Look for graveyards within a ten minute drive of the bank,” he orders.

“Cell phone,” Gavin squeaks. “Rye... it’s - I’m scared...”   
  
Michael stiffens at his voice. “Don’t worry, boi, we’ll get you!” he shouts, not caring if Geoff got angry. “We’re coming for you!” 

***

Inside the casket, it was so dark except for the slight light given off by the phone. Gavin clings to it, looking upwards where he was separated from the light and the air by a few feet of dirt. His breath hitches. It’s becoming harder to breathe. “It’s ... I can’t breathe right...”   
  
Ryan’s voice filters back through the phone and Gavin clings to it like a lifeline, the crackled, garbled voice that is his only connection so he doesn’t die alone down here. “Stop talking unless I tell you,” Ryan orders and Gavin forces himself to stop quietly crying. “Gavin, you have to focus. Stay with me, okay? Stay on the line.”   
  
He whimpers slightly, confirming, trying to swallow down the lump in his throat and trying to stay calm. Breathing quickly in panic used more of his air. He knew that much. He had to try to slow his breathing.

***

Back in the Mobile Command Center, Jack expertly still weaving them away from the cops, Jeremy looks like he was going to be sick. The fact that he was severely claustrophobic is common knowledge. 

“There’s two graveyards within a ten minute drive of here,” Michael snaps after a moment, “and we have NO fucking way of knowing which one the asses took him to.”

“Or if he’s even fucking in a graveyard,” Jeremy mutters. Their time is ticking down, a few minutes having dripped away in their panic. 

“Do you have any idea where they took you?” Ryan asks Gavin a bit sharper than he means to, but all that comes back is a small whine. “N-no, they knocked me out, c-chloroform...” 

“Don’t yell at him,” Geoff scolds. “Gavin. We’re going to find you, babe. Do you think Matt could track that phone? I need that big brain of yours.”   
  
“Don’t - don’t have time,” Gavin whispers, feeling like he’s sealing his own death warrant. He leans back, letting out a tired sigh. “Not - not enough air to wait.”

“He probably has about twenty-five minutes before he completely runs out of air and starts to suffocate,” Ryan says plainly, not finding any need to beat around the bush. When they all look at him, he shrugs. “I’m a mercenary.”

“They left a ransom note,” Geoff says with a strained voice. “We could just give them the money.”

“Even if we did, I doubt they could get to him on time, not unless they had a man right there waiting to dig him up,” Michael says with a frown.

“What if we split up?” Jack calls from the front cab, listening in through the coms. “I’m already heading towards the pier. We have five goddamn people - I’ll go to the pier in case they have a man there and I’ll wait a bit. The rest of you hot wire cars and go to the graveyards. If we don’t hear anything in say - fifteen minutes, I’ll trade the money and fingers crossed the dickweeds have some sort of last minute man there to dig Gavin up.”

“It’s probably a trap!” Jeremy protests. “They want us to show up at the pier to kill us too.”

“Guys...” Gavin whimpers from the other end of the phone, cutting into their discussion turned argument. “Please hurry....”

“Gavin,” Ryan says firmly into the phone, interrupting the others. “We love you. We’re not going to abandon you, I promise. Now hush, you’re wasting air.”

“I know,” he says breathlessly, looking into the dark. “But it’s so....”

“Shh,” Ryan says again. He looks around at the others, who have fallen silent, but before he can speak Geoff speaks up, standing and regaining his feeling of authority as a plan falls into his mind. That’s why they all come to him - he’s the man with the plan.

“Jack’s right,” he says firmly. “One of us will go to the pier. We have body armor and guns, not to mention this thing is armor plated. They’ll wait and if they don’t hear from you in fifteen, they’ll fucking make the trade. In the meantime, two us will go to one of the graveyards and two of us will go to the other.”

“Two problems,” Michael snaps. “How will we know what graveyard Gavin’s in?”   
  
“Easy.” Geoff’s smirking now - that smile that shows shit is about to hit the fan. It’s a very Ramsey expression and it puts them all on edge. “Gavin, baby... can you hear what’s going on around you?”

In the coffin, Gavin strains to do what he’s told. It goes silent for a few moments as the boys wait to let him answer. Faintly, as if like music from three rooms away, he can hear the sound of the street. Cars and such. It’s muffled, but its obvious the dirt isn’t fully packed down. Sound can filter.    
  
“Yeah,” he says quickly. “I can, why...?”

“Perfect.” Geoff cuts him off before he can waste any more air and Gavin frowns but stares limply into the dark, holding the phone like a lifeline. It’s flashing low battery, of course. He just prays that it won’t die on him.

Die before he dies. Suffocates. He’s heard it’s a shit way to go. Hasn’t seen it himself, but knows enough about death to know it sucks.

“Two of us will steal police cars,” Geoff says with his wicked grin. “And we’ll drive, sirens wailing, towards the graveyards. If Gavin can hear the sirens getting louder as we enter the graveyard, we’ll know one of us is close to him. He should be able to lead us by sound close to the grave and if the ground is still that unpacked, we’ll be able to dig up the freshly dug one.”

It’s silent for a while as they process that plan before Jack slams on the brakes and nearly sends them all to the ground. “Get out,” she snaps. “I’ll go to the pier.”   
  
“Alone?” Michael snaps, “that could be suicide...”

“I won’t engage with them unless we don’t have any other options, but we don’t have time to argue!” Jack snaps furiously. “Get out, every second we waste is a second closer to losing Gavin. Roadblock up ahead anyways - I was going to skid around, but the cars are there for you to take!”

Ryan had almost forgotten they had just finished a heist and the cops wanted them dead. As if they had heard their plan, they were confronted by cops, three cars waiting for them and blocking their exit out of the city and onto the pier. 

“Brace yourselves!” Jack snarls, running through the blockade with as much power as this huge ramming van can muster. It crashes through the police cars, sending them skittering to both sides. Ryan falls over from where he was standing, the force of impact not damaging their car too much but too much for Ryan to take.   
  
He slams against the wall, breath nearly taken out of him, but was almost immediately hauled to his feet again by Michael. “Out!” he snaps, dragging Ryan towards the back and out of the van, his AK-47 already puttering in his hands as he fights the cops.

“Gavin?” Geoff says frantically into his phone as he snatches it from the ground. In his prison, Gavin is trying to yell over the sound of the noise, but he can’t. And every breath to yell for them is harder and harder to catch.   
  
“I’ll call you back!” Geoff snaps - and the line goes dead.

***

The sound of fury and guns and fighting and sirens suddenly disappears. Gavin is left, staring at the wood ceiling of his coffin, completely and utterly alone.

He knows they weren’t abandoning him on purpose. He had heard the plan and it was a good one, so far as frantically half-baked rescue plans go. But the terror of fighting, the sounds of sirens and screaming, still fill his ears in the silent misery of his prison.

What if they died in this fight?

What if no one came?

He’d never know. He’d die here in this box, waiting for them to save him, but they never would. Arrested, dead, it didn’t matter... they wouldn’t rescue him and he knew his attackers had effectively left him here to die. No one would unbury him. His body would rot in this wooden box until it decomposed and became one with the soil.

He never wanted to be buried, anyways. Dead or alive.

The terror was too much and for a moment he let himself sob, racking tears coursing down his cheeks, pooling down below him before he forces himself by the skin of his teeth to pull himself back together.

He had limited air. The boys were coming - they had to. They’d get a cop car like they said and they would come for him, dig him up. Save his life. Even if Jack had to make the swap of cash for his life, that was okay - they had tons of money. Someone would save him.

_ They had to.  _ He just had to believe that.

So he closes his eyes, forces his breathing to slow into calm, meditation breaths, and waited.

Waited for the phone to ring again.

Waited for his boys to save his life.

***

Somewhere in the flashes of time they were in the fight, Michael had gotten shot. He doesn’t remember when, or how. Something had blacked out in him and the fighting had turned almost ... mechanical. He had heard someone mention beserker rage, probably from some dumb Viking television show he watched with Jeremy. When your thoughts just stop, you don’t feel pain, you don’t get tired, you just ... kill.

Maybe that’s what happened to him.

When he awakens, blood dripping down his side from a graze on his ribs, having gotten right in the crack of his heavy armor, he’s driving a car. Ryan is next to him, navigating with almost the same blank precision.

They were going to the graveyard. They had stolen a cop car and were headed their way.

He coughs a bit, shaking his head, and Ryan looks up. There’s blood smeared on his face - or maybe that was a drop of his facepaint - but he smiles faintly. “You were a fuckin’ animal out there,” he says dryly. “Dragged you into the car and you took the wheel and followed my instructions. How much of Michael was I dealing with?”

“Not fuckin’ much,” he mutters. “But I’m here now. Kinda... lost myself for a minute.”

“It’s been a hell of a night,” Ryan retorts. “We’re almost there, flick your sirens on.”   
  
He does as orders, the sirens shrieking into the silent night. He makes them as loud as they can go, not caring about waking up an entire city block. 

“Geoff and Jeremy went off towards the other graveyard,” Ryan explains. “He texted me Gav’s number.”

“What if he’s already dead?” Michael cuts over Ryan’s explanation, hands gripping the wheel and white-knuckled. “What if ..”   
  
“We can’t worry about that,” Ryan says with a shake of his head. “Just focus on driving - one step at a time.”

Michael tries not to notice how Ryan’s hands are shaking. How he clutches them in his lap to stop the tremble. How one of his fingers is bleeding and his fingernail is ripped partially off. 

How did that happen? He doesn’t even ask. The night in his memory is patchwork and technicolor, fear grabbing his throat and stealing his voice and his breath. Strangling him from the inside if he thinks too hard about it. So he doesn’t, just doing what Ryan says.

He trusts Ryan more than he trusts his own eyes in that moment.

When Ryan’s hand folds over his own on the steering column, he squeezes it. If this night ends in the way his darkest nightmares say... well, at least he has this moment of comfort.

***

A text pops in to the phone on his chest about eight agonizing minutes after he was rudely hung up on. Gavin is knocked out of a doze, hands fumbling as he forces the phone to work. Things are ... sluggish. His mind is going slower - he supposes that’s the lack of oxygen.

There are phone numbers on the screen. It’s separated into two texts. Distantly, as if from a far-away dream, he remembers that’s what old phones used to do. 160 characters. Odd....

But he still has enough recollection left to be startled by the sound of ...something on the outside of his coffin. It’s only been what... twenty minutes since he’s been put in here? The world is fracturing on the edges and it’s so, so dark. 

But in the darkness and the lack of his sight, he’s had to focus on his ears. And he hears it. Like music, far on the edges of perception, but it’s getting louder. A shriek that grates in an almost musical way on the edges of his subconscious.

He floats in and out, listening to it. He was supposed to do something when he heard that noise. He knows Geoff was going to be really upset with him if he doesn’t do whatever it is, but he can’t really... bring himself to care?

The world was drifting and he was drifting away with it. Breathing was really hard now, so he just sort of ... stopped trying so hard to do it. Why was breathing important again? He couldn’t really remember.

The sound was getting aggravating now. But he knew it was important in the part of his mind that wasn’t going foggy. Something was screaming at him to reach out, to tell...

And then his phone rang sharply, banishing the other sound with a furious shrieking ring, a bell that grated against every one of his senses and knocked him out of the almost silent death he was sinking into.

_ He was dying _ .  _ And he almost accepted it.  _

That thought ripped through his mind as he scrabbled to open the phone, jamming his cold fingers on the speaker button. The terror and desire for life that shocked him into action caused adrenaline to pulse through every inch of his body.

Suffocation wasn’t harsh, not at first. The lack of oxygen had put him into a sleepy state and he was fading.... He had almost let himself die.

“I hear it,” he gasps into the phone. It was so, so hard to form words. Even harder to understand the voices chattering at him, but he forces himself to focus.

In a last ditch effort, he shoves his finger into his mouth and  _ bites _ until the pain lances up his arm and he tastes blood, copper and iron and  _ bright _ , in his mouth. He can almost taste the sensation of brightness as the blood and the pain wakes him up again, shocking him back into reality.

He clings to it for a moment, blood on his lips cherry red, before he can steady himself enough to understand what was being said, lack of oxygen pushed back as he forces himself to stay awake.

“I hear you...,” he repeats. Ryan is speaking. Pretty Ryan, lovely Ryan, so insistent. So stern. Such pretty lips when he makes words, he wonders fluidly what those pretty baby blues look like now when he’s so scared for him...

_ Focus _ . Another bite, another lance of pain, another moment of lucidity in a dark hole, in a dark abyss. 

“Come... closer,” he whispers as the horrible sound gets harder to hear. “C-closer.”

***

“Gavin!” Ryan shrieks again into the phone, bending over it as he yells at the other. Michael has the other boys on the line, just telling them that they were here, that Gavin was here, that they were doing their best and they all had to join them at this fuckin’ graveyard as soon as they can because Gavin... Gavin wasn’t doing well...

They were down to their last minute, that was obvious. If they hesitated too much more...

Then Gavin’s voice - the faintest whisper - drifts through the phone. Closer. They were going the wrong direction. 

Michael hauls the wheel and they literally streak across the graveyard, running over headstones and knocking over funerary urns as they streak in the direction Gavin brought them.

***

_ Loud _ .

It was so loud. The sound was keeping him from sleep. He just wanted to sleep? Why wouldn’t they just shut up and let him sleep?

If he closes his eyes and dreams, he can see the warmth of his own bed. Geoff would hold him there, pet his hair, tell him he’s done well. The others would be there to give him kisses. Jack would gently tilt his head up and give him that warm soft kiss she was so famous for. He felt safe with her.

Why wouldn’t that sound turn off so he could go with her? She wanted to take him somewhere. His body was so cold and hurt so much. Why couldn’t he just go with her.

He coughs once and it shocks him awake as his body spasms. It’s so hard to cough and when he wipes his face, there’s pain as his fingers touch his cold lips, hot and bright as it spasms through him. Why does his finger hurt?

Oh. He had bitten it, didn’t he? It seems so long ago.

And then he’s coughing again and someone is shouting at him or near him and the sound is so fever-bright and it hurts his ears and he just whines ...

“Loud...”

***

_ “There!” _

Ryan’s almost throwing himself out of the cop car as soon as he hears it. Gavin’s whisper of loud and the sight of a fresh mound of dirt means only one thing. That’s where he is.

He’s about to launch himself out of the car when a bullet smashes against the door handle. It’s only sheer dumb luck it doesn’t go through the window and into his brain. 

Cop cars. Why the  _ fuck _ don’t they have bulletproof glass?

“There’s a guy...!” Michael shrieks unhelpfully. He picks up speed, gritting his teeth as he barrels towards the gunner. Two bullets get lodged in the windsheld and it splinters, but he doesn’t care.

“Go!” he yells at Ryan as he slams into the man at full fucking speed.

The windsheld is filled with body and then red.

The gunner isn’t a problem anymore. He supposed vacantly that the man wasn’t expecting them to be so desperate as to just ... run him the fuck over. Although, maybe he thought it was a real cop.

Really, it didn’t matter what he had thought. 

Michael leans over the steering wheel, blood streaming from his forehead where he had struck the window on impact. He groans, but he’s alive, and just shoves Ryan out of the passenger side when the man hesitates for a half second to look at him. “Go!” he repeats breathlessly.

So Ryan’s going.

He leaps out of the car, ignoring the mangled corpse stuck in the grill and Michael’s dazed form. The other probably had a concussion but was otherwise fine - thank god, so much thank god, he had someone up there to thank if they came through tonight, racing towards the mound of dirt.

“Gavin!” he yells into the phone, now cracked in his hand from where it was hit in impact. His hurt finger was pulsing in pain but he ignored it. What was a lost fingernail when his Gavin was dying?

His Gavin, his beautiful sunny Gavin, the man with the smile that could make his heart hurt, the man who had words that made him want to melt, the man that was his sun, his moon, his everything...

_ All of their everythings.... _

He throws the phone to his side. If he doesn’t manage this, than they wouldn’t need it anymore anyways. Falling to his knees and ignoring the way this rips his remaining fingernails to shreads, he digs like a dog in the unpacked soil, shoveling it out of the way with two frantic hands.

He’s sobbing, he thinks. There’s something in his eyes that makes it hard to see. He doesn’t stop to brush it away.

Theres’ the distant sounds of shouting. Of another cop car. Maybe they will help before they arrest him? He never would beg a cop for help, but now he’d get down on his knees and plead if it meant Gavin would be alive. He’d debase himself if it only meant the other would survive.

But it wasn’t the cops. It was Geoff and Jeremy. Jeremy runs to where Michael was struggling out of the mangled cop car where they had run into the man and a stone casket, the front crumpled with the impact. Geoff falls to his knees in the dirt with Ryan and they wordlessly dig.

They’re uncovering the front of the coffin when Jack arrives.

They don’t stop. Jack had stopped at the graveyard station at the front and received a shovel. She was always the smartest of them. 

With the combined effort of all five of them, they exhume the coffin and open the lid.

For a moment, they fear Gavin’s dead. His eyes are closed. His lips are blue.

But its Jack who sees the rise and fall of his chest. Shallow. But there. It’s her who drags him out of the coffin that was almost his final resting spot. Its Jack who drags his body to the surface with the other’s help, and it’s  _ Jack _ whose sweet lips get him to cough back his breath.

***

Gavin only remembers the sweet, sweet taste of oxygen. When he can be aware of anything at all, he realizes there’s a mask on his face. When they had stocked the Mobile Command Center with first aid kits and oxygen, the Lads had complained it was overkill.

But Jack had insisted. You never know.

And you never really did.

His brain was foggy at first, but at every frantic gasp of the life-bringing gas, things cleared. And then he was coughing, convulsing, dragging breath after breath down his lungs as he remembered he needed to breathe, knew how low on oxygen he was, how it felt to die.

He wasn’t dead. He  _ wasn’t dead _ .

When Gavin opens his eyes - six minutes after he had fallen into the unconscious state that lingers before death - he finds every single one of his lovers above him.

They’re muddy. Filthy. Bloody. Tear-stained and scared and broken shells of the men (and women) who had sauntered off to the heist not three hours earlier, suave and confident and on top of the world.

But as he breathes in the sweet taste of life and starts to cry breathless tears of relief and they all pull him into frantic hugs, he can believe with whatever faculties he currently has that they’re all alive.

They’re going to be okay.  _ He wasn’t dead. _

_ He was going to be okay _ .

***

Its Ryan who notices first that Gavin’s awake. After they had pulled what felt like Gavin’s lifeless corpse from the coffin, Jeremy had started to sob. It was Jack who had the oxygen - and the shovel and the intelligence - to bring him fully back to them.

CPR was enough to get him breathing again, but it was the damn oxygen tank that saved his life. 

He lunges towards Gavin and it’s Ryan’s squawk that brings the rest of them out of their silent vigil. It had been such a long night. Jeremy had fallen asleep against Michael, who was not allowed to sleep. Jack had immediately diagnosed him with a concussion after tending to Gavin. The bump and cut on his head where he had slammed into the man with the gun was livid.

But it would heal. They would all heal.

It didn’t seem true until Gavin’s eyes opened and Ryan hauled him forward. The man doesn’t even seem fully with them, still distant and dizzy, but Ryan just clings to him.

“Don’t do that!” he says roughly, pressing his forehead against Gavin’s, looking him into the eyes and watching him focus on his own. “Don’t - don’t you ever.... Don’t you ever do that again!”

Gavin makes a small whimper and Ryan quickly releases him, the other falling back a bit before giving a small, gentle little grin. “Sorry,” he breathes, coughing again. “W-will try not to.” His grin turns a bit crooked and he chuckles breathlessly.

Just like that, it’s like a weight is lifted.

Gavin may be seriously hurt. He may have panic nightmares and dreams about being buried alive and need an oxygen tank for a few weeks. He may have damage to his lungs and some lingering brain issues for a few months.

But he could joke. He could laugh.

They all gather around him, pulling him into soft kisses and softer touches. Geoff is last, bending over to steal the gentlest kiss. “I’m sorry,” he breathes. There’s a weight in there that means so much more than what he said.

Gavin just gently squeezes his hand. “Not your fault, Geoffrey,” he whispers with a small smile. “Besides -” he says and coughs a bit, “it’s your plan that bloody saved my life. Good call on those sirens.”

He smiles a bit and kisses Gavin again. “Now shut up, Free, before I make you,” he retorts clumsily, hiding his pink cheeks from Gavin’s compliment. He’s not used to having the other boys praise him. He’s the leader, he’s  _ supposed _ to do right. But it’s a load off his mind knowing Gavin doesn’t blame him.

He’ll just blame himself.

They may be wanted by a thousand cops. They may have made an enemy of a powerful, stealth group that kidnapped one of their own and almost killed him in a sadistic death trap. They may be wounded and hurt and traumatized.

But that was for tomorrow.

Right now, they will hold each other as the sun slowly drifts above the horizon, in a dark graveyard in the back of a mobile command unit not made for the kind of driving they used it for.

Battered? Broken? Scared? Sure.

But always the fuckin’ unbreakable, unkillable, immortal fucking Fake AH Crew. 


End file.
